


Seduction

by TheNugKing



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Other, Pre-Relationship, The Fey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNugKing/pseuds/TheNugKing
Summary: The locals warn to avoid the Woods. Barely more than a copse from the outside, but they say those who enter can become hopelessly lost. They say the air is thick with old magics there. They say that at the center lies a ring of mushrooms, a portal to the Feywild. They say within the Woods dwells a powerful, dangerous, beautiful Fey, whose powers of seduction are otherworldly and devastating.Which all sounds incredibly fucking hot to Hennie.
Relationships: Orc/Archfey, Patron/Warlock (Dungeons & Dragons), original non binary character/original non binary character
Kudos: 2





	Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> An introduction to my new D&D character, their patron, and their reason for joining the game's quest.
> 
> CW: mentions of domestic abuse, sexual harrassment, alcohol, and allistic behaviour

The locals warn to avoid the Woods. Barely more than a copse from the outside, but they say those who enter can become hopelessly lost. They say the air is thick with old magics there. They say that at the center lies a ring of mushrooms, a portal to the Feywild. They say within the Woods dwells a powerful, dangerous, beautiful Fey, whose powers of seduction are otherworldly and devastating.

Which all sounds incredibly fucking hot to Hennie.

Hennie’s been interested in the Fey since they started their apprenticeship. Or at least, from three weeks in, when Master Cornelis finally stopped making them copy shopping lists, and instead gave them a book of Folktales of the Fey. Since then, they’ve read everything about the Fey they can get their hands on. Back in their home village of Gornstad, Hennie dreamed hopelessly of adventuring in the Feywild. Accompanying Master Cornelis to the town of Arentsen to do in-person calligraphy for a very prestigious client--one Hennie should probably have remembered the name of--they’ve spoken with people who actually _knew_ those a Fey spirited away, and for the first time, their dreams seem like they might actually be obtainable.

And the fact that this Fey makes a habit of seducing Orcs who wander into their Woods doesn’t hurt either.

It’s a little past the stroke of midnight--Hennie took a couple of wrong turns on the way--and the Woods seem unnaturally quiet around them. Guided only by the rumours of the townsfolk, and an unwavering commitment to the cause of faery sex, Hennie ventures onwards, further into the Woods. Their heart beats heavy in their chest as they notice an outline of mushrooms between the gnarled old trees, and they suck in a breath before taking that fateful step into the ring.

Nothing happens.

“Uh… hello?” Hennie looks around. “Lord…? Lady…? Sir Fey? Are you there?”

A slight wind blows through the wood as they stand there, and Hennie shivers. Maybe they should have brought a cloak, instead of the shirt thin enough to show off their chest. Or maybe they should have stayed in their warm bed in the inn, and got some sleep, instead of chasing stories. Master Cornelis isn’t going to be happy if they yawn their way through tomorrow’s lessons again. Whether Hennie’s just not pretty enough to be worth seducing, or there was never really a Fey here to begin with, no one’s coming, and Hennie’s pretty sure they’re wasting their time.

“I must say, it’s been a while since anyone sought me out,” comes a voice from behind them.

Hennie whirls around, their breath catching in their throat.

The Fey stands illuminated between the trees, the Woods somehow light around them, though they don’t carry a torch. They look almost human, except very unhuman in a way Hennie can’t quite place. Their shining white hair blows in the wind--the wind that Hennie was certain stopped before they appeared. They’re the most beautiful being Hennie’s ever seen.

“Uh,” they say.

“Eloquent,” the Fey responds, and Hennie can feel their cheeks heating. Their face is serene, yet their eyes seem to bore into Hennie. “I am here to bargain, not to give freely. If you wish another word from me, you will tell me--truthfully--your intentions in coming here.”

“Um. So it’s--it’s really nice to meet you. Amazing, actually. Hello.”

True to their word, the Fey doesn’t reply, only continues to regard them impassively.

Hennie takes a deep breath. “People said you seduce visitors to the forest?” they blurt out.

The Fey’s composure slips suddenly, and for a moment they look astonished, before they throw their head back and laugh. The sound is magical, but Hennie feels it maybe goes on a little too long.

“Is _that_ why you came here, dynan? Seduction?” They seem to have regained their poise, but the corner of their mouth twitches upwards in a smile. “You think I desire mortals for _intercourse?_ ”

“No! I mean--that’s what people in town think! They say Orcs fall in love with you, and then you spirit them away.”

“Your people do like to think the worst of mine.”

“So… what do you really do?”

“Avoid concerning myself with the affairs of mortals, when possible.”

“But you come when called?”

“Yes.”

They answered only what asked, Hennie realised. Of course they did--they had told them they didn’t give freely. Hennie had done the same as a child, until Master Cornelis had taught them that “No” was not an adequate answer to the question of, “Have you finished copying the manuscript yet?” and they also had to give a reason why not, and an estimation of when they would be finished. It feels odd to realise Master Cornelis’ conversation style is now more familiar to them than their own. It feels comforting to return to their own with the Fey.

“So what made everyone think you seduce people away? If you know?”

“Misunderstandings.”

“Tell me about them? Please?”

“Politeness, too. How sweet. Very well then, dynan. The first came to me for help. He felt his name and his place in your realm a meager enough payment to escape his wife’s beatings. The second was a Lord who thought himself powerful enough to take whatever he wanted,” their lip curls, “That he could make an archfey bend to his whims.” They grin suddenly, their teeth gleaming, before they turn and place their hand on one of the gnarled trees. “ _I_ thought he should learn to give back to the world a little.” Shadows dance across the Woods, and for a moment, Hennie thinks they see a grimacing face staring out from the tree trunk.

“Right. Um. Sorry for... presuming. Uh.”

“Since you’re here, you could always offer me something in return for me granting you the gift of speech.”

“I know how to--hey, none of the books ever said the Fey make fun of people!”

“Didn’t they? Then perhaps it’s just me. Or perhaps it’s just you.” The Fey is smiling at them now, their eyes--somehow able to repel and draw Hennie in at the same time--glinting. 

“Uh,” says Hennie again.

“Or perhaps it need not be a jest, after all.”

“No, I’m fine!” The Fey wants real answers, real explanations. “It’s just--I know I was wrong about the whole… seduction… thing, but you’re beautiful, and I’ve wanted to meet a Fey for years, and this is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me, so I’m sort of… overwhelmed. And intimidated. And… you know.”

“Do I?”

Hennie flushes again. “It doesn’t matter! You said you weren’t interested in mortals.”

“Did I?”

Hennie opens their mouth to respond, and then closes it again as they think back over the conversation. “No. You said you hadn’t seduced mortals here before. You didn’t… you didn’t say you wouldn’t.” The fey continues to watch them impassively. “So does that mean… could we… am _I_ seducing _you_?”

They smile again, bright and sharp, and take a step closer to Hennie. They could have sworn the Fey was shorter than them--tall for a human, perhaps, but nothing to an Orc--but somehow, they tower over Hennie now. Their heart feels like it’s about to burst from their chest as the Fey reaches out to take their chin and tilt it upwards, and Hennie closes their eyes.

“I think not,” says the Fey.

Hennie’s eyes snap open. The fey has let go of their chin, and is several feet away again, without Hennie having noticed them move. “Oh. Right. I mean. Of course, that’s your right. But you were kind of leading me on there…”

“You muddle your words once again, mortal. I was most definitely leading you on.”

“Right. Yeah. So can I ask--No, I’m just asking. Why not?”

“Because I am an Archfey, the Tywysog of a realm your mortal mind cannot comprehend, I have powers that can change the very plane you walk on. You are tiny, compared to me. Make no mistake, our meeting has been delightful, but while I may tease you for my own amusement, I will not take advantage of you further, dynan.”

“Right. I mean, I’d be fine with it if you _did_ take advantage…”

“I gathered.”

“I guess you have. Yeah.” Hennie looks down, shuffling their feet. “So, I mean, I’m still really interested in all the non-seduction related things? Can I give you my soul for a trip to the Feywild, or something?”

The Fey’s eyebrows raise. “You can.”

“That would be, uh, a much better deal on your end, wouldn’t it?”

“Quite.”

The Fey steps forward again, staring at Hennie closely, and they feel a flicker of fear. “I don’t--I’m not giving you my soul. Not for just one trip, anyway.”

Their smile now is softer than any of those they’ve given so far. “And I would not take it. I have been far kinder with you than I needed to be, dynan. Other Fey may not be. And I suspect I have done little to temper your enthusiasm to meet them. So I will offer you a deal.”

This was the moment, according to everyone Hennie had ever spoken to about the Fey, that they should start running in the opposite direction. Well, actually, most people they brought the subject up with told them not to go looking for the Fey in the first place, but everyone was pretty united on the, “Don’t take any deal they offer you,” front.

“Go on,” says Hennie.

“Give me your name. Make yourself mine. Come to me when I call, and help me when I ask. In return, I will protect you from other Fey, I shall ask no more of you than you are able to give, and I will grant you the gift of magic. All this I promise you.”

Hennie really isn’t sure there’s any downsides. “That… would be amazing. Wait, when you say you want my name, do you mean what my parents named me, or--”

“Of course not. It matters little what others call you. Your name is your own.” Their lip twitches. “At least for the next few moments.”

“All right. I accept. My name’s Hennie. Hennie Geluk.”

The Fey is holding a pendant. Hennie didn’t see them pick it up, but is sure they weren’t holding it a moment ago. They hold it up, and it shines in the moonlight. “Hennie. Take my blessing, wear my locket, and you shall have the magic of a Warlock at your fingertips.” They raise their pendant to Hennie’s neck, and then pause, their hands almost touching them again. “There is… something further I could offer you. A suggestion, rather than a deal. A bargain uncompleted. If you wished.”

“Tell me.”

“What I’m giving you is the ability to cast spells. Your skill you will have to develop by yourself, through experience. There is a town, far away, across the sea. There are mortals who will be drawn together. Travel there, seek them out, quest with them, and you will begin to gain that experience. And your power will grow. And at the end of it… I shall make you no more promises, but you would not be so tiny. Make of that what you will.”

“So… if I leave my home, and my job, and everything, and go off on a dangerous quest with strangers… you might bang me at the end of it?”

“That is one path in a stream of endless possibilities.”

“Yes! I’ll do it.”

The Fey smiles, fastening the pendant around Hennie’s neck. “You do amuse me, dynan.”

The world around Hennie glows with light, and images of strangers flash across their vision. 

An aged elf wielding a greataxe, the brow of a ship behind her. A goblin working on an intricate magical construct. A human healer, set of scalpels in hand. A young woman whose ears suggest elven ancestry, but whose wax seals suggests an allegiance to the inferior human calligraphy guild. A bombillan with a swarm of smaller bees surrounding them. A dwarf playing a steel drum one handed, as she takes a swig from a bottle with the other. A port town, the name _Hrip_ inscribing itself in Hennie’s mind.

When it’s over, the Fey is gone, and Hennie is alone in the Woods again. They shiver, the cold of the night returning as it occurs to them that this hadn’t been a problem in the Fey’s presence. They wish again that they’d brought something warmer, and then suddenly, their shirt is letting off heat. Right. Magic.

Hennie beams to themself as they start to make their way back to town. They have a long journey ahead of them. And if things go very, very well, a powerful, dangerous, _beautiful_ Fey to bang.

**Author's Note:**

> It's a level 1-20 campaign and Hennie's aim in reaching level 20 is to finally bang their patron.


End file.
